A Complex Recipe for Holiday E Coli

Sometimes simplicity is more complex than one would ever imagine.
Sometimes Jews are stranger than Christians.
And sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

And that explains why I absolutely loathe the holidays. I hate the commercialism; I hate not having money; I hate the expectation kids have for an obscene amount of gifts; and I hate the day after Thanksgiving when 6:00 am tramplings at Walmart are socially acceptable.

Halloween is like the pull tab on the beer can of the holiday season; New Year's is like the faded, drunken blur right before passing out after months of hard liquor that undoubtedly caused irreversible liver damage. The three months between these two holidays lies the feckless dysfunction of the season. Some call it the pinnacle (or joyous culmination) of the holidays; I like to refer to it as the worst time I never remember. I often think to myself, 'Am I drunk or does everyone hate me?'

Alternatively, I often wonder if I am the only one who gets it... except for Clark:

Nevertheless, being that we are smack-dab in the abomination, I have decided to make a list of the sweetest things that have happened in 2009. Following that list (because I am Carly), I would also like to share a few of the rotten things that happened in 2009. After all, in retrospect, you can't know real happiness until you experience one disaster after another.

Ten Sweetest Things in 2009 (in no particular order):

10. Watching Chloe, Ady, Piper and Max grow into the most amazing nieces and nephew ever.

9. Sneaking into BlizzCon with my charming friends and co-workers to see Ozzy Osbourne.

8. Visiting Melanie in Monterrey with Mindy... and relishing all the hungry butts that we saw.

7. Seeing the following bands in concert: Pearl Jam, Sunset Rubdown, Yo La Tengo, Bon Iver, M. Ward, Conner Oberst & the Mystic Valley Band, Black Keys, Sonic Youth, Cursive, White Rabbits, AA Bondy, The Hold Steady, Will Sartain & Giant, Vile Blue Shades, The Devil Whale, Band of Annuals, Starmy, Purr Bats, Black Hens, Future of the Ghost, Ok Ikumi, Blind Pilot, Peter and the Wolf, Laura Gibson, David Williams, Cub Country, Bluebird Radio, Tough Tittie, Ten out of Tenn, Leslie and the Badgers, Big Gun Baby, Blitzen Trapper, and more and more and more and more.

6. Adopting Ellie and Zor, my very special puppies.

6. (Yes, I know. Two 6's.) Meeting Justin Hackworth.

5. Kelly getting married and reuniting with her, Bethie and Jacki.

4. My unbelievable, smart, beautiful daughter becoming an official teenager: 13!

3. Meeting and falling in love with The Family, and a memorable summer of Smoking Sundays and nights at the Gallivan Center.

2. Seeing The National in Milwaukee and Chicago with Fuschnickens.

1. Falling in love, finally and genuinely.

Ten Rotten Things in 2009 (in no particular order):

10. Winter: It's cold, annoying, and makes me cranky. Sometimes it gives me dysmenorrhea. And diarrhea, too.

9. Learning that people you trust are disingenuous, greedy, liars, fake, chameleon-like, selfish, imprudent, threatened, unintelligent, simple, loquacious, cowardly, vaginal douche kits. Note to self: work is a place we go to make money and get bullied. It is not a place to make friends; it's not a place to believe anything you hear; it's not a place to allow your boss to stare at your boobs; it's not real life.

8. Three of the most important boys in my life going through traumatic experiences: Two had seizures that scared me to death. The other one - and I'm not naming names - (Brooks) hit his head and forgot who I am; we used to be bff's.

7. Having to pay $2.50 to say, "You goddamn fucking shit ass printer! Do you want to die?"

6. Being "let go" or "dismissed" or "parting ways" from work, in a REALLY childish and puerile way. (Note: I will NEVER work 100+ hours a week for some chode whose only instructions are to "make me look good".)

5. Losing my sweet puppy, Zor, to some jerk who didn't even stop to tell us he hit him.

4. Not being able to get over Dr. Phil.

3. Losing our precious Sunny girl on March 20.

2. Being a perpetual disappointment with perceived reckless abandon that make people worry about me. I don't want people to worry about me. Believe it or not, I've made it 34-years, and although I've made some mistakes, I know who I am and what I am doing. And I even believe that I have raised The Teenager to the best of my abilities.

1. Not spending enough time with Chloe and my family; particularly my nieces and nephew.

I think 2010 will be a good year. I sure do. I don't care if I have to have a therapist. I have great friends and great siblings. I am sure I will still make mistakes but... without my mistakes, I'm just an ordinary douche kit (refer to #9). And I'd rather be anything but that.

Something sweet.

I have the sweetest, most adorable Jakovasaur that lives in my attic.

We both have insomnia. Well, mostly just he does. So last night we both pulled an all-nighter and he helped me so much (I was working on a tight deadline). Jakov made me laugh, he got me a coke with extra extra ice, and he showed me videos of drag car races. He is also photoshopping a picture of Gizmo in her pink convertible that rules. More importantly, he gave me something sweet.

This morning we made Chloe and Jocey breakfast for Chloe's 13th birthday. He made the most delicious french toast with a crispy hat. It was awesome.

I am crazy about him. So much so that it warrants a blog entry. He will be a big contributor to my survival this winter. I just don't know what I would do without him. Thanks, baby.

Winter blows.

Each year, the first few weeks of winter come crashing in with icy winds, below freezing temps, and blustering snow. And every year I think to myself that my body won't survive another winter in Utah--that it will be physically impossible to live through this. But somehow I manage to get through it.

This morning I woke up shivering. I could hear the wind snapping and whipping, wrapping itself around the house, the house wincing and creaking with each gust. I forced my feet to hit the cold floor to assess the situation from a window. Wind. Snow. Ice. Frost. Thank you, no.

I begged my tiny pup Ellie to go outside to use the bathroom. When she cowered at the snow drift coming in the door, I honestly considered training her to use a human toilet or even the corner of the shower... something, anything, to avoid the biting cold. But like me, she's tough. And she ran out and braved the elements.

And I ran back to my bed with an extra quilt. This is where I'll work from today. My bones will eventually have to face the ridiculousness of the season, just not today. If only I had a bottle of Jameson right now, I'd be the happiest girl in Utah.

This family eats a lot of toast.

History was made last weekend.

My grandma is a lady. She doesn't swear, act fresh, or dress inappropriately.

In fact, she has NEVER said the 'F' word and she maintained that I would likely see my death before I ever heard it from her mouth.

That sentence was true until last Saturday. I came downstairs to help put up Christmas decorations. Apparently I was too late.

grandma: "Thanks for your help."

me: "Well, you need to ask when you want people to help you."

grandma: "I did. Everything is done but the Christmas lights."

me: "Well here I am so I guess I'll put up the fucking Christmas lights."

(short pause)

grandma: "I don't have any fucking Christmas lights."

She said it. And I think she nailed it. If you're only going to use the word once in your life... use it wisely. It made me very happy and I hung the Christmas lights outside in the cold.

Later she told me I backed her into a corner and she had no choice but to say it. Her reasoning only makes me love it more. She's a fighter.

f r e e d o m

I have no money, no resources, and no hope. I am the happiest man alive. - Henry G. Miller

I have no money, no job, and one-way tickets out of Utah. I am the happiest woman alive. - me

T R U T H : Part II

Here are some truths I've re-learned since Halloween (and my last post):

1. People lie. I have the word TRUTH tattooed on my wrist to remind me that most people are deceptive, rotten, selfish, discriminating cowards. I think it's sad that believing in people is my flaw.

2. Everyone is looking out for one person and one person only: their self.

3. Never work harder for your career than you do for the people you love.

4. Junior Mints are delicious.

5. When you aren't asked or given the opportunity to offer your version of something that happened, maybe it's because you don't need to. Or maybe just knowing the truth yourself is more important in the end.

6. Trust your gut. ESPECIALLY when it hurts.

7. Women who question authority and think for themselves in the corporate world are frowned upon. When a man does it, he is a genius and gets promoted. (This is based totally on my own experience and I am not casting judgment of any kind.)

8. You can do 50 things exceptionally well, you can help others when they are in a pinch, you can genuinely want to make things better, you can work 100+ hours a week, you can do whatever it takes--even stay up all night--to make someone else look good and then ... make one mistake and that's all people will remember. (See numbers 2 and 3.)

9. Everything happens for a reason; I've been through worse.

10. When people show you who they are, believe them.

And, you know what? I found an adorable house guest along the way that makes everything better and needs my attention right now ...

Rated R for language.

What the hell kind of conspiracy is going on? Of ALL the nights to not lay down and pass out? Tonight, you're going to do this to me? My insomnia is returning TONIGHT? Fine. Bring it on Halloween, you rotten, decaying, plagiarizing, stupid holiday. I won't go into details but ... oh okay, yes, I will.

First of all. We finally hired a designer at work. Day 2. He hates my guts. HATES them. I've watched him secretly give me dirty looks and he puts on fake head phones to "muffle" me out. I think it's because I am obnoxious, loud, funny, attractive, smart, tenacious**, oh, and also because I swear a lot and sit RIGHT next to him. Actually, I think it's mostly because I swear a lot. We have a swear jar. (Long, boring story.) I told the team the swear jar does nothing for me. It is so definitely worth my $2.50 to say, "You goddamned fucking shit ass printer, I'll kill you." I'll keep feeding the kitty. Because they are only words, what they do to your mind is your problem. If you say "Ahhhh, fudge you copier." I literally want to leap out of my chair and choke you. What does that even mean? The intent behind both words is the same.

Anyway, I understand it is offensive (to some people) and so I am working on it. I apologized to him about ... 100 times today and promised to work on my language. He said, "I appreciate it*." Now, the old, rotten, demonic Sharon would have said, "Well I'd appreciate it if you didn't act so shittin' (.50 cents) smart and brag about being happily married, and wear stupid ugly socks!" But I didn't. Because he's a really nice guy and I don't even know what his socks looked like, or if he is married. Actually, Manchild (that's his name) kicks ass (.50 cents) and he is a great designer (so far). I think maybe it will just take some time for him to warm up to me. I sent him HR's email address so he had it on hand.

Anyway, later, someone at work called me a line-crosser: "Carly doesn't know when to stop. She has no lines. She is a line-crosser!" At first I was mad at my so-called "friend" but after thinking about it, I was like, you know what, you're right. I don't have any lines. Oh, and if you are going to talk about corn chowder/mushroom soup barf, and play with your ding dong, and do other disgusting male things, I have no problem telling you I'm on my period. What? So I am. If you insist on looking in my pocket, you're going to find .... gasp! a tampon. The point is, I am who I am. I don't believe in lines or staying within them. Which is why I have no friends.

Anyway, the day ended with friends who say amazing words like "douche-fucking-baggery" and "tough titties" and "shove it up your ass". I also listened to some amazing music, drank a few beers, and talked to one of my favorite people. Actually, many of my favorite people. So. There you have it. Take THAT insomnia!

*There is an awesome story about convention where these exact words were used. Final day of convention as my staff and I were walking to dinner:

Girl: blah blah blah blah blah blah

Everyone: blaah blah blah bahhl ablahah

Girl: and then that goddamned effing box landed on.....

Someone: hey! she said "effing"! good job, you're doing better.

Girl: hey, yea, i did. thanks.

pause, walking, more walking

Girl (proudly looking at CHRIS): i am working on it.

CHRIS: "I appreciate it."

pause, walking, more walking

Someone whom I will never invite to staff convention again: "Wait, you just rewarded her for not saying the F word when it was preceded by "GD"?

Some people. Wait until your kid gets knocked up at 15, just wait. Language is nothing to get upset about. If it takes your mind to dirty, dirty places, talk to your therapist. That's not my problem. "Shitass" and "Cherrios" give me the same feeling inside my heart.

I will stop using JC and GD at work. Because some people are offended, understandably, and because it's in the 10 Commandments. (Side note: I would love it if people used my name in vain. You know, go around saying "Susan B. Anthony!" Or, "Carlydamn you, carlydamn you straight to hell. You carlydamned selfish sonofabitch." Maybe even, "Fix this carlydamned printer before my head explodes!" Anyway, if you too need a substitution, you have my permission.)

**Sales and Marketing gave me this as my strongest characteristic trait: tenacious. I'm still trying it on for size. B-to-the-G told me it just means I'm a bitch, but I kind of like it. Now when people say, so ... tell me about yourself. I can say, "I'm tenacious. Fuck off. Here's a dollar."

Excuse me, you're in my way.

tonight on my drive home i couldn't stop tears from plopping on to my cheeks one by one. so i finally got the courage to call my doctor. i don't know what i would have said to him if he had actually been there (they were closed, as most doctor offices are at 9pm) but i think i would have probably sobbed for 20 minutes until he refilled my zoloft and sent me on my way.

there is just a point you reach where you feel like maybe it doesn't need to be this hard... and i think i'm close to reaching that point. when i realize i can't be effective or be an agent for change, it's clear my time is more valuable elsewhere. and when it's obvious that i have already reached the highest position in a company--although i am already doing the job of a position above mine--i wonder if it's a good investment. yet there's a catch... why do i care so passionately about my career? so much so that i put everything into it? everything in my life comes second to a job that doesn't reciprocate my love. i work harder for my job than i do for anything else in my life. that's not really something to be proud of.

i want my daughter to live in a world where she doesn't have to work twice as hard as a man for half the salary. there is a boys club where i work. and it's bad. and for those of you who don't know me, you may roll your eyes, but it is blatantly obvious. i am not a feminist or man-hater or gender biased nor do i have a chip on my shoulder. i'm just saying, until you experience the feeling of insignificance and disrespect that many of us ladies have felt lately, you can't understand.

i've worked my ass off in every company i've worked for during the past ten years. i have a degree. i have ideas. i am educated. i am experienced. and i cannot win at this place. it makes me sad. i have my faults, don't get me wrong. but i don't know anyone who is perfect. i get my shit done. i might be late once in a while but i may work until two or three in the morning alot, and yes i am lucky to have a boss who understands, but still falls into the yuck yuck boys club. and as far as the other d-bags...how about this: your breath stinks and you sit and fart in your office, and go to lunch for three hours, and redecorate your offices. p r o d u c t i v i t y . it's the newest thing in corporate america. look into it. (my cube is held together by duck tape.)

if i ever own a company, i will not reward laziness or stupidity by giving incompetent people less responsibilities and more positive attention. i'll fire them and hire erin. or someone who gets stuff done.

i'm exhausted. i love the feeling of accomplishment after an event. but i don't like this feeling right now. not at all.

at my funeral, do i really want my family to say, "well, she put together a hell of an event under budget..." ? no. i want them to say, "her daughter and family were the most important things in her life. she always put them first. she was happy. she laughed. she made us laugh."

that's the person i want to be. that's the balance i'm looking for.

when someone is sleeping soundly next to you, kiss them softly.

this conversation really happened:

me: hey, self, really good to see you.

me: you too! where have you been?

me: i don't know... right here?

me: no. i have been here. you have not.

me: you may be right, self. i miss you. and i haven't see you for a really long time.

me: things seem a little out of balance for us.

me: i know. these random things--running out of gas (again), falling down when we're taking the garbage out, missing chloe's games, being late, forgetting simple things, self destructing-- they usually mean the universe is trying to tell us something.

me: most definitely. i think it's trying to tell us to stop. just stop.

me: let's stop. soon. let's plan a day where no one can find us and figure this out.

me: done. oh yea, and self?

me: yea?

me: i love you.

me: i love you, too.

wait, before you say anything...

lunch money, again? i know. yes i have to work. i can't talk right now. what do you want? what are you doing? how many times do i have to say no? pick this up. please pick this up. did you pay your parking tickets? here is the presentation. what time is the meeting? how far behind are we? i believe in second chances. i'll be your first. it's broken, again? this isn't happening. this can't be possible. he did what? no, i haven't talked to her for over a week. i should call her. i'll stop and grab some groceries. you're grounded. is your homework done? what do you want for dinner? who is this from? easy with the air freshener. nice blush. i haven't paid that credit card for over two years. hello. goodbye. i had free tickets. i think i saw her but i don't remember. remember, i specifically said today? i can't do everything. my stomach hurts. do i have a fever? you don't have a fever. i can't think about this. i haven't made plans yet. there is piss AND shit in rest homes. that is the smell of rot. i don't know. yes, i have wet hair. no, i don't have five minutes. i really don't. i need tylenol. why is the tv up so loud? what if someone gives me the swine flu? is she pregnant? i don't know what they are doing for her birthday. maybe. nice move, jerk. i hate driving. you've never taken that off before? i am NOT hungry. can i get two chicken soft tacos? this place could kill a man. i'll take care of it tomorrow. i wonder what would have happened. guess who called me today? remember when i saw you everyday? how long has it been since you've seen her? too long. you were johnny for halloween and you're worried about being a boyscout? so are you dating anyone? i don't know, i am not sure what to do. jesus christ. that will cost you one dollar. dr. phil is pretty intelligent. he's smart. do most people end up hating their moms? did i really misuse the parenthesis so blatantly. i've just got too much to do. i don't watch tv. do old people's insides smell worse? baby diapers are manageable. does it get worse? did you watch the games on sunday? do you ever just feel like talking? no. do you ever feel like just... not talking? i don't have time for chitchat. you guys are friendlies. what were you thinking? i feel like i've said this before. i would if i had the energy. it's not you, it's me. i have to sleep. i will do it later. i have no idea. why do i have to do everything? i will be there. don't worry. what if i don't sleep tonight? let the dogs out. those buggers. what did you do with my scanner? turn the lights off. i'm tired. do i look tired? do you think these match? i wonder if people really like being married. i would just hate it. i think it's supposed to be thrown away. what jeans do you want washed? i've never really liked jay leno. can we wash these tonight? well i get nervous, that's why i chew gum. just kidding, i don't really get nervous. let's see, fifteen minutes ago i could have done that. i'm sorry you're sick. i should do something nice for him. i have thought about you, does that count? no. not at all. i would love to be married for 60 years. you still have a cold sore in your nose? what age does early adulthood mean? specifically. i need some water. i need to call the doctor. i am not even wearing makeup, i'm cutting corners where i can. he does indeed have the swine flu. it's a confirmed case. i just need like fifteen minutes. so that is what craziness sounds like? i wonder if i sounded like that. we should start a community action at work. if i get the swine flu, i'll be so pissed. can i get a soy latte, four shots? i saw them in concert. do i have to watch it? that totally makes sense now. yes, i can do that by friday. it's just hard to feel anything. i am way too emotional to deal with you right now. did he say no? right now, i am busy. yes, i understand. every one is so busy. every one is broke. i am broke. i don't have any money. i flushed my paycheck down the toilet. no, really. i lost mine. how much lunch money do you need? they take tickets. are you talking? all the good stuff has already been done. at least once. i totally missed his birthday. my teeth hurt. will you hand me the water please? some places are open 24 hours. i will not be seeing that movie. i feel like we're not communicating.

Goodbye Headband...!!!

I have many things that I would like to write but my grandma's TV is up so loud I can't concentrate.

Instead, I give you Tuesday's Ten Things I Love.

In no particular order:

1. Receiving emails with "Last Night" as the subject
2. Erin--in her quintessential deadpan manner--shooting me with an imaginary (but very convincing) gun during our marketing meeting
3. Waking up to the sound of little girls giggling
4. Seeing my nieces, Piper and Ady
5. Finding out Dawes is coming to Salt Lake City
6. Being (mostly) on time for work and getting home before 5pm to be with Chloe
7. The new (and totally) hot marketing director bringing donuts for us this morning
8. Remembering Yo La Tengo's performance last night and how much it rocked (company included... you boys know who you are!)
9. Remembering leaving Yo La Tengo and giggling over the sweet boy with a headband who crashed his bike ... "I love your headband!!!"
10. Having a sweet, thoughtful, tough, understanding, resilient, patient person in my life and being very grateful for him
11. Getting out again ... and away from the office.

Okay, so it's eleven. I tend to overstep my boundaries sometimes. There is plenty to complain about and it's been a rough couple of weeks, however, there are many things to fall in love with everyday. I am going to get back in the habit of falling in love again.

UPDATE: I cannot believe that I didn't list the most important person of all that I love today! It's the one, the only, Maximus! If I loved him anymore, my heart would explode and fill up the universe with tiny little heart bombs. So here's #12: Getting pictures on my phone from Max's momma:

Guess I'll try on Chloe's boots that she wore when she was little.

Kicking it out in my momma's old cowboy boots. These are the real deal ... only for tough kids.

I learned a hilarious new trick ... what? Is there a towel on my head?

And this is how adorable I am with my sleepy eyes! Breakfast time.

See how many things I have to love about my life? An amazing family, the best friends a girl could ask for, adorable nieces, an irresistible nephew, good music, and good times. So in the words of Yo La Tengo:

Let's be undecided, let's take our time

And sooner or later, we will know our mind

We'll be on the outside, we won't care

Cause we're together, that's somewhere

He's heavy and he's NOT my brother...

so, our marketing department moved to a room on the other side of the wall.

we have makeshift desks and random supplies. we're going through a transition, if you will.

i can handle people pilfering through my desk and eating my treats. i can handle not having a phone or my whiteboard. i can handle my stapler and good pens disappearing.

but we are marketing so one thing that would seem pretty important to have would be a goddamn printer that worked.

instead, we have "the brother." it is the most annoying printer in the world. i have been trying to print a 6-page document for a good two hours. maybe longer.

the IT department set my mac up to print to the brother, and it worked for a couple of days. yet in doing so, they un-installed the printer that resides in our old area from my system preferences... a printer that was actually manufactured after 1975 and efficiently prints a word doc in seconds. why delete that printer? can't i have two printers installed?

so i can't even carry my mac to my old area and print (i tried. four times.) it doesn't make any sense. but then again, why would it?

i have tried everything. EVERYTHING. i am currently in the process of searching the web for a driver that is compatible with my OS. no offense to the IT guys, but they have no clue how to configure, run, or operate a mac. for real. and they resent that marketing uses them. and i'm not a genius but mac's are about the most simple things in the world to run.

anydamnway, i have reset the brother trucker about five times; i've tried saving my document as a .pdf and printing it; i've tried printing from everyone else's Ethernet hook ups; i've tried rebooting my computer; i've tried begging the brother to print... but the bastard just sits there "retrieving data" or sometimes drifting into SLEEP mode.

i have figured out that by printing the pages one by one, i am able to make some progress. it takes about 20 minutes to print one page but at least it prints. or did print. here i am on the final page... number six, and the sonofabitch refuses to print.

the queue says it's printing. it shows that the printer is online. it says page six is printing 900 times. but i can read between the lines... and i can see that it is really saying, "Burn in hell Carly, burn in hell and take your mac with you."

it would not be a big deal but i promised my boss i would have it printed out and on his desk in the morning. and he really does need to look at it before his meeting.

and sadly, i have to be back here early as well. and i have a one hour commute. so you do the math. i leave by 2am, get home at 3am, wake up at 7am... another coffee and excedrin day. oh, and not to change the subject but doesn't the brand "Brother" make sewing machines? what business do they have making crappy laser printers?

it's almost too much. it's almost melt down time. the brother is going down. and i mean down. you stupid effing idiotic, jerky, smelly, douchey, lazy, cheap, racist, crappin', old brother. you are dead to me.

People are stupid, because they are dumb.

In case you haven't noticed, I don't really have time to blog these days. Mostly because I'm such a hard worker and totally into my career. That's also why I never had kids or got married. I am what you would call an overachiever. I have devoted my entire life to climbing the corporate ladder. It's so rewarding. Every day, I learn something new from the talented and creative people I work with.

For example, this conversation happened on Tuesday:

Man: "Do you want a fish taco?"

Other Man: "What kind is it?"

Man: "Fish."

Last week, during staff meeting, Brockovich jotted down the following notes during the department updates. This kind of valuable information cannot be learned in college.

"Hormonal levels are down."

IT & Compensation Systems

"We're all happy about good things."

IT & Compensation Systems

"We have hired some very attractive people in the call center."

HR

"Save the cheerleader, save the world!"

Product Marketing

I feel very lucky that I have access to such a high caliber of experiences every day! It inspires me to work extra hard. For instance, check out the super sweet project I created yesterday here. I didn't even have to hire models; I incorporated the people from my department. I think it's really going to be the catapult for that promotion I want. Ha! And maybe a woman really will be President one day!

Cue Don't Stop Believing...

Family Time

I miss The Family.

I can't really explain why ... just something about being surrounded by real jerks makes me happy, I guess.

My blog is psychic.

Today's CNN headline torn from my last two posts:

He's gonna launch that dog! + You're dead meat = Jessica Simpson's dog eaten by a coyote!

How awesome is THAT? Pretty awesome.

Awesome enough for Remy to send it to me via text.

Enough said.

You're dead meat.

I have been staring blankly at my inbox (which contains 305 emails) and the project management list for about two hours this morning. Sometimes I take a break and look at my super long list of deadlines. Then I'll drink some coffee in hopes that motivation will come flooding out of the cup. It's not happening. Instead I lament with the department about how unfortunate it is that the lights don't work, but our phones and computers do. And most importantly, I wonder where the word deadline came from. Will someone really die if I don't reconcile my budget or solve the online registration process today? Maybe. Maybe they will. Then, the deadline will become a headline: Man Dies From Incompetent Coworker.

Anydamnway, if you are curious, the origin of the word "deadline" did come from a real line drawn in the dirt or a fence restricting prisoners during the Civil War. They were warned, "If you cross this line, you're dead." So it's a boundary. A death boundary. In business, the failure to meet a deadline could result in consequences even scarier than death. I shudder to think what could be worse, especially considering the reward for meeting said deadlines is sitting in a dark office with other prisoners.

I pledge to never draw a line so serious that someone dies from it's implications. That said, I better get to work so poor Catherine doesn't get shot later today.

He's gonna launch that dog!

I work in marketing. I can't really reveal the name of the company for obvious proprietary reasons... but we just launched a miracle product at our last event. Here is a great shot of my boss unveiling the hottest thing on the market right now.

I submit to you... Frank-fitter®

Some testimonials we have heard so far are:

"I laid some Frank-fitter on my dead grandma's feet and she came back to life."

"I used to have B.O. but I started eating Frank-fitter and now I'm totally popular."

"Frank-fitter made all my wrinkles go away. Most people think I'm 29. I am 87."

"Instead of an epidural, I leaned on Frank-fitter during natural childbirth and had no pain whatsoever."

"I ate half a Frank-fitter and immediately received 500 new Facebook friend requests."

"I started taking Frank-fitter and now I have a boyfriend."

"I fill the tub and soak in Frank-fitter pieces. My skin has never felt (or smelt) better."

I love my job. Today.

It's Official...

It's official, I am in love. Madly.

I thought after losing my Sunny last March, I would never be able to love any puppy ever again. But now C.J. and I have adopted two adorable pups, Ellie and Zor, and they make every day of my life brighter. I love them so much.

I thought I was getting them for C.J. but I have realized over the last two weeks that maybe I needed them more than she did. They are just the sweetest damn dogs you have ever met. My heart has never been so full. And I'm NOT a dog person. (Mindy, testify!)

My three babies:
Now if only we could convince Grandma to let us keep them . . .

I am NOT drinking the Merlot!

I’m sitting on an airplane headed home from another epic adventure with my girlfriends. I’m trying to think of how to summarize the last few days. Can I really do it justice?

I could write a short story about our wine tasting tour alone. From Richard’s bum being hungry to the folks from Mississippi that you couldn’t help but love. Even the Texans hopping on the trolley with a 12-pack of Coronas and passing them around was a key element to the entire experience.

I guess it’s one of those stories that you have to be there to appreciate. So I won’t go on, but I will share a few highlights.

1. Did I mention Richard’s bum was hungry?*

2. One of the Mississippians asked (in all seriousness) how long boxed wine stays fresh. Richard gently explained that they don’t drink much “jug” wine in California. Later, during the pairing section, the same southern gentleman said the Chardonnay would be excellent with possum. Aye chi kye chi.
3. Richard (our 60-something, tan, tall, handsome, balding, charismatic tasting guide) had a hip wiggle that was only outdone by his air guitar. (He got uncomfortable when we started getting drunk and hitting on him.)
4. I found a cowboy hat. And everyone on the trolley fell in love with each other by the end of the day. You know when 21 people are on a trolley singing “Love Shack" it’s been a successful wine tasting tour.*

As I mentioned in my last post, I came home immediately after the wine tour and slept all evening, night, and morning. But as it turns out, it was that drunken stumble home with six bottles of wine that would bring us together with another new friend. A Green Peace activist stopped me to ask for money and I said, “I’m really drunk. I just want to go home.” Pause. “Will you call me a cab if I sign up?” And that’s how I met Joe (and became a monthly donor to Green Peace). Joe is the best cab driver in the city and became our personal driver for the rest of the weekend. While I plastered Kilby Court stickers and Salt Lake Recording Service cards on the back of his seats, he took us to the aquarium, Lalla’s, Cibo, and eventually through the McDonald’s drive-thru. Joe, Joe, Joe. We just aren’t sure who he really is. DJ? Cabbie? Caretaker? Computer Editor? Veneer Molder? (But yes, his glasses were real Versace.)

Yesterday, we took a walk along the beach with Murphy the Dog.* There were sea lions basking on the shore and glistening on the rocks. We watched a poor starfish be bludgeoned to death by a selfish, mean, rotten Seagull. There were people running, biking, walking dogs. Weddings were taking place at the parks. What a beautiful and sparkling place. Really.

Last night, we got dressed up and headed to the Aquarium. But the night really started when we called Joe after dinner and he dropped us off at Lallapalooza, a martini bar. And they did have some delicious martinis.* And the rest … well, let’s just say that some things should remain between friends. We danced, we met “Steph”, we blacked out, we stumbled, we hit people with our purses, we got flipped off, we ran over bouncers, we cleared dance floors, we drank too much … and by "we", I mean me. Bless my friends for being such better drinkers than me. They kept Sharon in line while still dancing, blacking out, stumbling, and doing a lot of apologizing in my blazing path.

I like Monterey. A lot. I think I’ll go back. Miss you already, Motha. Love you.

*Pictures coming soon!

Sorry, them's the rules.

Today was the wine tasting tour. The trolley picks you up at 11am and drops you off at 5pm. I played it conservative but managed to get a little over my limit by the time we returned.

The wine tasting tour was great. More to come on that later... let me just give you a quick summary of what wine tasting tours do. They make you tired. Real tired. I came directly home and took a nap. I just woke up. Six hours later. Could have been the wine, could have been the two Coronas I slammed, or could have been the Jameson and coke. I left the ladies, got a cab, and came to bed. I listened to my iPod sing Iron and Wine lullabies until I drifted into an amazing somber. Heaven = taking naps.

The point of this entry isn't about the wine tour--that will come later. The real story is that we got kicked out and 86'ed from a bar last night. This so-called "Mucky Duck" or, as we refer to it, the "Slinky Dink" is apparently where you go to get your butt grabbed, groped on the dance floor, or harassed by Tom Cruise. (**check back for pictures, they are coming and they WILL worth it.)

Anyway, if you watched the video at the link above for the Slinky Dink, it explains a lot. Just as we had consumed enough liquor to start dancing, I ran to the rest room. The ladies' line, of course, was a good 45-minute wait. The men's room: nothing. So, encouraged by 6 other girls, we went into the men's room. It was empty. As we were walking out and coming up with a game plan, I get assaulted by a security guard. Big tough guy with his head wire and everything. IN MY FACE. Being a complete rotten duck tail douche.

Tough Guy: You're out.

Me: What?

Tough Guy: Out the front door. (As he's physically pushing me.)

Me: What did I do?

Tough Guy: Went into the men's room. OUT. NOW.

Me: Can I get my friends?

Tough Guy: Call them from outside.

Me: I don't have a phone, I'm from out of town. I need to let them know. (I'm still in shock.)

Tough Guy: Call them from outside. (Still pushing)

Me: Are you for real?

Luckily, another security guard that was very sweet and had actually been keeping an eye on us all night walked up and said that he would grab my friends. So now Tough Guy is pushing all three of us out the door and Mindy (my sister who commonly sees me getting kicked out of bars for good reason) was trying to get the full story. "Nope, she didn't do anything, just went to the men's room. OUT." Huh?

He shoved all three of us out the door and says, "All three right here, 86'ed." So not just kicked out, but we can never go back? Not gonna be a problem, buddy.
(It was kind of funny because when we went in the bouncer chuckled like "you old ladies don't cause any trouble." Heh. He was sitting there chuckling when we got kicked to the curb. The place is a goddamn shit hole.

Everyone we've talked to said it's really hard to get kicked out of the Mucky Duck. Our cab driver said, "Yea, it had to be something else. You were just too old." My mind rewinded to the scene of the crime, hmmmm, yea the other girls that were my accomplices were younger and dressed like complete skanks so.... yea. Maybe they only want hookers and butt grabbers in there. I don't know. (Remember this dialogue from "Knocked Up"?)

I was drinking Jameson straight up. And so it is probably just as well that we left when we did. I still wanted to drive past in our Cadillac and yell "SUCK IT!" but... I'm grown up now.

Regardless, I woke up this morning and looked in the mirror: Did my hair get wet last night? Sister: Yea, you puked in it. What? I had no memory of that. Black out. I guess I just threw up in the toilet and went to bed. Slept like a champ and woke up feeling great. I think it's the whole ulcer thing. Not supposed to drink on 'em or something. I'm on vacation.

On the wine tasting trolley today, we were talked about the previous night and my adorable sister says:

Sis: "You just gotta remember that whiskey is not your friend. Every time you go out with him, he gets you into trouble. And if you hadn't have been made to stop, who knows what may have happened."

Me: "Well, we got back together so get used to it."

Sis: "I won't. Call me when you break up again."

Speaking of my cohorts, they just came rolling in from oyster dinners and lots of booze--they went to a supper club. Mother is snoring like a bear and Mandy is passed out with her tight jeans on. I guess I'll try to go back to sleep.

There should be a song about Monterey. The Hold Steady should write it.

The end.

monterey: here to stay?

i arrived in monterey, california today (by a small act of God) and am already enamoured by the place.

martinis, crackers and cheese, my sister, and best friend for life--all reunited for a weekend of wine tasting, pebble beach, shopping, and a convertible.

our luggage didn't make it but that just means Delta will buy us new clothes. nothing can ruin this trip. NOTHING.

i would live here. it's a beautiful, amazing place. i cannot think of one place i'd rather be right now. the only thing that would make it better (if that's even possible) is if KG was curled up next to me.

monterey. will you keep me?

What I Do

today is day three in sunny california. i'm here for an event. that's what i do. events and marketing. events are a blurry time of averaging 3 hours of sleep each night and working our guts out for the other 21 hours of the day. but they can be super fun, too.

this is why:

this is me with one of my favorite friends and colleagues backstage during today's general session. it had to be posted because we actually look adorable despite being in work-induced delirium (yet simultaneously kicking serious ass). she is funny. she seems to enjoy my sarcasm, even rivals it... and is also extremely smart and talented. sigh. one of my favorite people. i hope she'll proof this entry.

i love my staff. they make me laugh and they work fantastically hard. it's a crazy, hellish, whirlwind weekend yet something--some small little something--about it makes it fun. that "something" is the people i work with.

oh, and the fact that there are a million nerds here for some Warcraft video game convention. these "gamers" (as they go by) are totally, awesomely out of control. tonight, we snuck into their massive event and watched Jay Mohr conduct a dance off. not just any dance off; a dance off between demons and elves and whores and monsters. this is a world i am not familiar with but am completely intrigued by. seeing people in capes doing normal things while talking in elf accents and recreating dances seen in the World of Warcraft could possibly be one of the most bitchin' things ever to experience.

anyway, photo above = cute. thanks, e.

catch-as-ketchikan

August is whirling by like bad news your mind can't process as fast as your stomach feels it.

And since nobody knows what might happen tomorrow, here is where I've been.

I went to Milwaukee and Chicago and saw The National. It was fucking awesome. Both times.




Salt Lake City launched the world's best Twilight Concert Series ever. I've been to all but one concert. Sometimes I see my friends and we try not to get beat up:



The World's Cutest Nephew turned 1. He could very well be the prototype of the perfect baby boy:



I thought I might die from the pain from what turned out to be bleeding ulcers that hurt really bad. I corrected the previous "I almost died" caption because someone (who I love very much) reminded me that I may be taken literally. I am very dramatic when I am sick. I am not dramatic when I am healthy. Anyway, I got demerol when they knocked me out for same day surgery. Piece of cake. (Update: Karma, please forgive me. You got my sarcasm, right?)



My C.J. started Jr. High and I almost (but didn't) die again (because she's growing up so fast):



Someone very close to me lost someone very close to her. I visited my grandpa's grave and talked to him about it. I went to the fair in Spanish Fork. I saw pictures of the Senator's spawn, who happens to be a beautiful princess. I recalled an awesome memory about Ryman Theatre.

I still have (and love) the most adorable and rotten Smokin' Sunday family, I have some new friends that are super cool and talented*, I have old friends that I don't see enough, I don't love my job but I guess I have one, and I pretty much have a perfect boyfriend.

There I said it.

*More to come on this topic.

Don't call it a comeback.

Fewer things are more annoying than being sick. Especially when there are a million things you want to do, and a million more you have to do. Last week, I felt like death. I looked like death. And as much as I try, I just can't will my immune system to correct things. The added stress of trying to keep up at work and home make it impossible to get better. I quickly realized this was no flu, common cold, or PMS.

I spent Saturday with my entire family ... Like, my ENTIRE family. It turned out to be pretty good medicine. I'm lucky to have them, I realize that. I maybe probably should tell them that more often. Or at all. I don't know, maybe they know. I've been pretty detached lately.

There just never seems to be enough time to do everything. Everyone is always saying there is never enough time, there is so much to do, I wish I had more hours in the day. I hate that. What if there are plenty of hours in the day and we've just become completely unreasonable in what we are expecting to accomplish?

I blame it on capitalism and greed in our country. Many other countries don't work like we do and they spend way more time taking siestas and eating and dancing and vacationing.

So maybe being sick is a reminder to change the things in your life that suck and spend time doing things that don't suck. Like hanging out with my adorable daughter, taking my nieces to the park, going to my nephew's birthday party, and taking naps. There is plenty of time. Plenty.

I'll make time.

about today.

Today you were far away
and I didn't ask you why.
What could I say?
I was far away.

- The National
"About Today"

there are so many things i could say. so many things that i want to say. yet i am floating in a summer that has trapped my words inside my soul. almost as if i let them out, i will lose them. and i don't want to lose them.

best.
summer.
ever.

Now Playing: ME

My favorite part of going to a movie is watching the previews. Even crappy movies look awesome with a good trailer. The voiceovers, the music, the drama, the action, the anticipation... I love it. Why? I don't know why. Why are McDonald's cheeseburgers so delicious?

Previews, recommendations, hot tips, taste tests, warnings, horoscopes, coming soons... I'm a sucker for these things. As such, I try to share things I love with people sometimes. And maybe it's because I am not an expert in any one area that people don't really love what I'm sharing... and maybe it's ridiculous that I get mad when people don't thank me for changing their lives with a song... but I still try. And I am still immeasurably happy when someone feels the same way I do about a band or show or restaurant or color or movie or ice cream flavor.

So what's the next big thing? What is this summer's blockbuster? ME. That's right. This year is quickly shaping up to be an amazing time for me. I feel more like myself than ever. Chloe, old friends, new friends, siblings, Smokin' Sundays, BluBlockers, music, vacations... there is a certain feeling of newness and happiness in all these things.

"And the thing is, it's hard not to look good in BluBlockers."

Fade to black.

Oh, Omaha.

Omaha is one of those places you visit that makes you think, I could live here. People are friendly, it's laid back, there are quaint record stores and even quainter coffee shops, the food is tasty, the city is green and then... then there is the music. And it's everywhere. It's in the trees. It hides in the wrinkles of the people who live there. It creaks from the hinges on every door.

So many bands I love have sprouted from Omaha. The music, like the city, feels like home. It feels like driving down an old familiar street and getting a quick pang of excitement because you're almost there. It feels like walking around barefooted in wet grass and on scratchy roads. It's like knowing you can sleep all summer, and waking up to the smell of waffles. The Omaha Sound feels like summer's first sunburn. And one band that precipitates these feelings for me is Cursive. Lucky me. They are bringing a little piece of Omaha to Salt Lake City tomorrow night.

Lucky you. Taking the Daytrotter model to a visual level, Lake Fever Productions brings you high-def crack cocaine: Lake Fever Sessions.

Watch Tim Kasher and team record "From The Hips" in Nashville. And then keep going. It's quickly becoming my favorite website.

Regrets, I've had a few.

This morning, when I couldn't squeeze into any of my pants, I started regretting all the Big Macs and dark beer I've been consuming over the last few weeks. I've had an insatiable appetite as of late and it's catching up with me. I think I do this every summer; sabotage any chance of going to the pool. Despite having the flu last week, I think I managed to put on 12 pounds.

Speaking of regrets, I heard a lot of 'em last week. So instead of continuing to stare blankly at a growing pile of tootsie roll wrappers, I thought I'd write some of them down, ahem, type them up. Down, up, whatever.

"I am already regretting my outfit."

"I have been regretting last night's Beto's all morning."

"I regret wearing the same clothes to work two days in a row, without a bra."

"I've pretty much been regretting every decision I made since 9 o'clock last night."

The thing about regrets though, is that they don't seem to stop us from doing anything. Consequences stop us. Regrets hardly detour us. Regrets are like the ultimate disclaimer: I regret to inform you (but I'm going to anyway). It's essentially apologizing in advance. I am sorry I have to do this but... I do. I am going to regret drinking this whiskey, gulp. Don't make me regret this relationship. I already do.

I can say, with sincerity, that I have made one decision in my life that I truly regret. Everything else I'd probably do again. Because I have happy regrets. My mistakes make me who I am, too.

i have a fever.

curse this flu. curse it and its miserable symptoms.

i hope they play Beehive State. they have to, right?

White Rabbits : Beehive State

What Once Was Lost...

..has now been found!

And yes, I had an awesome time!

Whew. I survived the weekend. Sure did. And it was a blast. Here is a short recap with pictures! Heeeehhhh!

I found out that my grandma definitely needs me around, but kinda likes me around too.


I found my Drunk that had been lost for about 2 months and 3 weeks. He came back to me at the Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band show. Of course this adorableness was before the debauchery started, and while we still had dates to take our pictures. (And don't pass by the little guy with his fancy mustache on the right. He was trouble!)


The show was just as expected, fabulous. Conor and his cronies immediately started playing new songs with the ferocity as if they were trying to heat the cold audience with their energy. The dynamics on the stage were almost too built-in, as if they were planned before the band's inception. But they weren't. At all. Conor never knew the Mystic Valley Band would come to be, or how it would work. He left on a trip to Mexico to write a solo album and ended up plucking friends out of their own lives to join him. This sort of patchwork assembly of the band makes me love it even more. Hearing the froggy and adorable Taylor Hollingsworth croak out a few songs was great. And I love watching Nate Walcott--a permanent fixture in any Oberst project--plinking on keyboards as he stares at the crowd, unfazed and expressionless if not a little perplexed. It was excellent. Bliss and pure innocent happiness.

I am not sure when I decided to let go of the reins. But I did. And, okay, sure, I did trip over Gina's lawn chairs and fall headfirst into mud to save the beer I had in one hand and the wine I had in the other... and I may have been wearing a white sweater when I went down. HARD. And I ate it, right there in front of about 100 people. And my date was SO embarrassed, he was like, "Really? This is really happening right now? Ugh." He was trying to help me up and I couldn't believe he was so composed. I would have been on the ground, laughing hysterically. He just helped me up and brushed me off a little, and looked at my once white sweater, now completely sprayed with red wine and Cutthroat. Sigh. I was still giggling.

The funniest part about the story is that Megan was with our friend a little ways away and she couldn't stop laughing because "someone had tripped over our lawn chairs." Silence. "It was Carly." Exponentially more laughter.

This is where things started getting a little starry. I do remember thinking, in the words of Matt Berninger, I'm on a good mixture, I don't want to waste it. And for awhile, it was perfect. The mixture of the sun reluctantly sliding behind the mountains, the dew from the rain lingering, and the lights on the stage... The mixture reminded me of warm, wet summer nights. Being on the grass with so many of my favorite people, having someone put their arms around you and love you in that moment, watching perhaps my favorite singer-songwriter ever, WITH a glass of wine AND a glass of beer. Ya, I can't beat that mixture. And I do not want to waste it. So... let's go sprint to the clubs and start dancing, being in photo shoots, drinking, and such. Because that was the pinnacle and we are on the downward spiral.

We had a great time. We really did. Dancing was super fun and although Cody ran from us at the end of the night, it was still a success. A long walk home, lesbian blankets, pot stickers, moldy pita quesadillas, the big white bowl you sit in, and more... it was sweet.

The next day we initiated Smokin' Sundays at the studio with pulled pork sandwiches so... sounds like a pretty good summer to me! Next Sunday: brisket. Yay!

A couple of other things I found this weekend:
1. My sister's old Bronco II. Ohhh, the memories. She's still on the road, folks! Yesssss.


2. An accidental softball picture for my heart throb companion:


Still Missing:
My car keys
My camera
My dignity

It's a start. I realize this is a disconnected entry, I really wanted to remember more about the mustaches and the gum throws... I guess I just wanted to convey the feeling of freedom and happiness we had running around and being with each other. It was nice. Hmmmm. I guess that's it. Rest in peace, beautiful white sweater..... Rest in peace.....

Beautiful White Sweater

Born 8:00 pm on Saturday. Loved whiskey, whiskey & red bull, whiskey, whiskey, wine, Cutthroat, red wine, Cutthroat, red wine, red wine, whiskey, vodka, blue shots, whiskey, beer, mud. Sometimes mud. Retired quietly with friends at Megan's house at 2:30 am. A good sport. Even though her colors changed, she didn't. We'll miss you.

The measure is the nation’s vote.

The peaceful demonstration chanting "God is Great" has filled the streets of Iran and continues to build. Millions, even, protesting, creating a revolution, standing on their own two feet, to overturn a controversial election. It's scary and hopeful to watch. Two of my favorite people (the cute intern and my big sis) sent me news articles that reported Twitter as one of the channels being used to organize the rallies and coordinate protests. The emphasis, in my mind, is more on the activism of people and communication than the messaging service itself. Sooo, the tweets about how much you love donkeys are still lame. Sorry. (Neither the cute intern or my sister are on Twitter.)

First of all, it's great that people are getting involved on a global scale. If it's helpful. Is it? I don't know. The flow of communication is obviously favorable in this situation. The days of censorship are over, maybe? How much support do I offer and how much do I really know as the truth? If I join an online group, how am I helping? Does that make me an activist? Or am I just jumping on the bandwagon?

I think, more importantly, it is awesome that "we" get to watch people in action changing the world they live in. Social activism being something that, in my opinion, my generation studies and even appreciates that our predecessors did for us, but none of us will ever experience. Some of us still don't vote in our own elections. I can appreciate that we are connected with the ability to pull together for a good cause. And I believe being informed makes us smarter.

My support (for now) will be to keep my love for hotdogs off the Twitter feed so those using it effectively (activists, programmers, local freedom fighters, the State Department, whomever) can continue communicating. And in the meantime, I can listen and learn more about Iran's situation to see if I really can help. It's easy to pithily say something online. Do it. Or at least make sure you're willing to do it for your own situation. Just think first. It's not about you. It's not about me. There is a rather articulate blog entry about how online media is impacting the situation at Iran Protests: It’s not about Twitter, it’s not about us. Check it out.

Of less importance, I played two softball games tonight and I literally can't move my legs because they hurt so bad. I feel like a jerk complaining because I love playing softball, I am physically able to, and I get to come home and sleep next to my beautiful daughter in a warm, safe bed. But they hurt damn bad--the legs. And we got killed in the second game.

Sigh.

Conor Oberst & the Mystic Valley Band : It's yours and it's especially mine

This Saturday, Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band will be playing at the Utah Arts Festival. It's going to be amazing. I don't want to make too big of a deal about it because I really don't want anyone else to show up. My four tickets and I are all that matters. I am so excited.

I drove to Omaha last year to see Bright Eyes play at The Waiting Room. It was awesome. (The show--not the driving, the speeding ticket, the deterioration of a friendship, or the incurred debt.) I would do it again. Google the drive from Utah to Nebraska. Obviously, I love Conor for more than just fathering my child.

I also got front row seats to see Bright Eyes at Kingsbury Hall that coincided with a work-related event in Vegas. I went to Vegas, worked, paid $700 to fly to Salt Lake on Saturday night at 6pm, watched the show, and flew back by 7am Sunday morning... only to catch my return flight back to Salt Lake the very same day. Again... TOTALLY worth it.

I hope this Saturday is another life-changing moment for me. I have a totally hot date (no lie), and I'm pretty sure we're going to be members of the Mystic Valley Band by the end of the show... satin jackets and all.

Download a song from CO&TMVB's new release, Outer South:

My Guilty Pleasure: Dr. Phil

I love Dr. Phil. I do. I think he's adorable, logical, charming, and witty. Granted, he's gone a little Jerry Springer-ish but that just signifies that the world is running out of legitimate problems. I would just love to have lunch with him, or maybe be on an Amazing Race team with him. Tonight, I was trying to find my hidden bottle of wine when my grandma yelled at me and told me I needed to come watch Dr. Phil because it was MADE for me; he had the answer to my problem on tonight! (Uh, yeah, he usually does.) I thought it was going to be about paying bills. We all know I don't pay my bills... not for lack of money, I just "hate paying bills" as Gram puts it. Ah, she knows me well.

Anyway, the title of tonight's show is "What's Wrong with Men?" The obvious problem with the men on the show was the women on the show. I mean, some people just shouldn't be together. I wish Dr. Phil would have invited me on the show. Not because I know what's wrong with men, but I know what's wrong with me--the men I pick. (See? I am soooo Dr. Phil ready!) There was like a group of bitter cougars and then a group of self-proclaimed jerks. Then there was a group of sloppy, dirty, lazy, married people that never have sex and have like 27 kids under the age of 12. Well, duh. What's wrong with men? What's wrong with people?

I bet the married couples were like, "you're crazy, stay single." And the single couples were like, "oh shit! I like my single life!" And The Fonz was like, "Heyyyy." I guess the moral of the story is: Move to Vegas and find a good pimp.

A couple of years ago, I was dating a basketball player. Don't get me wrong--I knew it was a bad idea. But I definitely liked watching him play basketball and I liked using his tickets and okay, I even liked taunting his "groupies." (Sorry, I am the first to admit that I was an immature asshole.) But the "relationship" was a complete disaster. I mean, more disastrous than usual. But I wasn't really emotionally into it, I laughed about the absurdity of it all. He was SUPER tall and SUPER hot and a complete demon. And I was 10 years older than him. I just liked crawling all over him, having him pick me up with one arm, and laughing at his (sometimes) funny jokes. And then other times, underneath his 6'6", 220 lbs, gansta facade, he revealed that he had a heart. He did. It was tiny, black and shriveled up but... we both got exactly what we wanted out of the relationship. Anyway, I digress. My point being: my sisters, so help me, bought me the Dr. Phil book, Love Smart : Find the One You Want--Fix the One You Got. Ha ha! I know, I know! I will read it one day. I sure will! It's just not that I'm really in a hurry to settle down. I want to fall in love and sometimes I trick myself into thinking that I am. But I just want someone to be quiet with. I don't want to get married. I just want to love someone and have them look at me like, hey, I love you too. Let's make out.

I don't admit it to many people, but I really, really, really am a hopeless romantic. I remember being in Jr. High under the bright Pony League baseball lights and literally having stars in my eyes... being completely, innocently in love with a boy. And all he had to do was kick off his muddy cleats, watch a movie with me and hold my 13 year-old hand to make me dizzy with happiness. Is it so wrong that I want to look across a room and feel those same pure feelings? So maybe now he's tattooed and shy but still has a smile reserved just for me. That's all. Simplicity. No analyzing. No trying to guess what's going on. No hang ups on the after life. No deep discussions about where we've been. Just holding hands and heading into the future. Is that too much to ask? I am terrified of getting too old to be capable of young love. I want to look at pictures when I'm 50 and see two young, beautiful people madly in love. I don't want a picture of me lovingly emptying "his" catheter on our second date or coffee stained smiles when we hit Walmart to get our blood pressures taken on Tuesdays.

Last weekend, my mother was in town. She was asking my daughter and me for advice on an outfit for her date. My daughter (without hesitation) said, "What? Nana can get a date and YOU can't?!" Insulting to both my mother and me, yes, but funny.

I mean, I guess I could go looking for love... but isn't true love supposed to find you? And I still need to figure out what "true love" even means. I know what it sounds like (music), I know what it feels like (first kisses), I just don't know what to do with it (spaz history). I bet Dr. Phil could give me these answers. I'm gonna go find him.